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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29051844">Blackout of Healthy Emotions</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonkikuasa211/pseuds/Nihonkikuasa211'>Nihonkikuasa211</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Durarara!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Blackouts, Blood and Injury, Implied Unrequited Love, Introspection, M/M, anger issues</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:54:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,244</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29051844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonkikuasa211/pseuds/Nihonkikuasa211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As Shizuo remembers his struggle with anger, his thoughts turn to a familiar shady informant. But wait, why is he realizing that he had never seen Izaya smile and laugh? Or even cry?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Heiwajima Shizuo &amp; Orihara Izaya, Heiwajima Shizuo/Orihara Izaya</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Blackout of Healthy Emotions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was planning on writing something very different. I don't where this stream of shitty thoughts came from. Please enjoy this work of mine if you choose to do so. Remember to say safe and wear a mask to protect the health of others!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When he had been a little boy, Shizuo had wanted to be a detective. The destructiveness of his rage and the terror seen by those ordinary people, who either envied him for his strength, or were terrified of his anger. It seemed so long ago that his younger brother had eaten the pudding cup, mindless of his older brother’s ire. It woke Shizuo sometimes at night, that it was only his bones breaking that had caused the refrigerator to collapse on him, and not on Kasuka. Even at the tender age of eight, Shizuo had been angry enough to throw a fridge at his fragile, six year old brother. It would have killed him. The guilt wasn’t enough to kill Shizuo, but he remembered with haunting clarity of how the bodies of the punks he beat up for a living, and innocents looking at him with horror in their eyes never left a part of him. There had been so much pain. It was as if his entire skeleton was tearing itself out of his skin, and Shizuo remembered restless dreams pounded by rage, blood and a long winding hallway echoing in his mind until he woke up in cold sweat.</p><p>Shizuo stated he hated violence. Violence was ugly. Violence only resulted in broken bodies and forgotten promises. Celty had said that Shizuo only got angry at people who were doing something wrong that would make him react. Her blond friend only smoked even more, and as if she sensed his cynical skepticism, the woman without a head replied, They probably deserved it, anyway!</p><p>Shizuo, even though he hated violence, was so pissed off all the time that he couldn’t even think straight. The moment a person laughed too loud, or their face was annoying, Shizuo’s vision went dark. He didn’t remember holding the car or using a street sign to injure the person in question. Shizuo was left to look at the aftermath, with bloodied screams and horror-fixed eyes as rage grew inside him again at the terror on people’s faces. Why wouldn’t stupid people leave him alone</p><p>The only friends he supposed he had were Celty…and Shinra, although he was more of an acquaintance. The underground doctor was only interested in Shizuo to dissect him, and then proclaim what a monster Shizuo was. The guy was an annoying fly anyway. Celty only tolerated him because she was like him.</p><p>Izaya… Oh how that name caused his heart to pump even faster and a grin to form on his lips. The fucking flea was the bane of his existence, a sleezy son of a bitch, one of those people who didn’t deserve to live, and evil. Orihara Izaya was about as good as Tokyo was small. Shizuo could rant about Izaya’s attributes all day. Celty was his main listener, and she imputed her own disdain for the Shinjuku info broker. They both hated him, the little parasite. He was like a flea, sucking off the blood of his victims until there was nothing left, and never leaving the people in peace.</p><p>Shizuo didn’t care about Izaya’s hobbies, or family. It didn’t matter to him. The Orihara twins were beyond strange though. One talked too fast and the other was probably a murderer in sheep’s clothing. The man who was their brother didn’t even register in their minds. The loud one, Mairu, had proclaimed that she hated Izaya, and the sheep one nodded in agreement. Shizuo’s hatred of Izaya was so strong that it didn’t even cross his mind that he should feel sympathy for the only visible family Izaya had hated him. Izaya though, was always in Shizuo’s thoughts. The blond bartender was always searching for the informant in the ugly fur coat, as the little shit loved to invade his territory, but Tom-san said he was obsessed. Shizuo snorted at the notion, of him being obsessed with the dark-haired informant with locks as dark as onyx and eyes glittering red like the blood that had recently spilled on his latest victims of his rage.</p><p>It wasn’t that Shizuo was obsessed with Izaya. Izaya was obsessed with him! The informant was always in his city, always behind all the crime and shitty situations that occurred in his city. Shizuo was sure that Izaya was behind the Slasher Incident.</p><p>The zombie-like creatures had his creepy eyes.</p><p>Many had asked, on the pain of death, as of why Shizuo didn’t kill the informant when was asleep. Those assholes would have died in not for Tom-san intervening in time. The skinny flea didn’t deserve to die such a peaceful death. For sure, Shizuo knew where Izaya lived, but that was for other purposes. Who knows if the informant would try to influence Shinjuku as well? Izaya needed to die an excruciating death, with so much pain and blood that Izaya would beg for Shizuo to end his life. Ah, that would be such a peaceful day.</p><p>Shizuo’s dearest wish would come true. It wouldn’t matter if his oxygen would be taken from him, Shizuo would kill Izaya with his bare hands! It wasn’t as if anyone would miss him. His beloved humans hated him, the so-called friends he had would turn the moment when his deals went south, and the only person who truly knew him was…</p><p>Shizuo stopped. It enraged him to the point where he was seeing red that the only person who truly knew Izaya was him. God, how humiliating. The mutual hatred they had for each other only made it possible to focus on each other, and Shizuo grudgingly acknowledged that all else faded when he chased Izaya. Somehow, all the rage and frustrations of the dreary and mundane day eclipsed when he met with Izaya. All that mattered was the chase, the blood pumping through his veins, and feeling something so close to joy that Shizuo never examined why he felt that way. He had shut off the box containing a sloppy scrawl of the nickname Flea, where it been closed and contained for ten years. Shizuo was sure there was shit pilled up in there, rotting like the memory of their owner. How was it possible that he had spent eight years fixated on the pathetic flea? He should have squashed him years ago, saving the world from another disgusting lowlife. How would he be human, with his love of creating chaos, tormenting teenage girls, and never showing anything beyond the cool mask of his? Come to think of it, the blond bartender had never seen Izaya smile. Not smile as in the smirks that he often had when the blond was chasing the informant from Shinjuku, but as in a real, content smile.</p><p>He had never heard his laughter. Or had seen him cry, for the matter. What would make Izaya sad, presuming he had a heart in the psychopathic mind of his?</p><p>A sharp clatter caused Shizuo to loudly curse, and he stepped back out of reflex. It was almost laughable of how Izaya sent gangs after him again and again, knowing that Shizuo would lose his ever-short fuse and cause destruction.</p><p>His golden eyes turned, the blue sunglasses making it harder for him to see what else he was seeing. The sun that had shone through the sky had now faded into a calm twilight. If it had been the countryside, Shizuo was certain that he would have been able to see the stars. It wasn’t as if he wanted to. Stars were annoying. The sharp alleyway was bare, and the concrete seemed new. Shizuo growled, already irritated by the confounding clanging noises.</p><p>“Who’s there? If the shitty flea sent you after me,” the young man uttered with cool rage and bloodlust roaring in his pupils, “you will not want to mess with – ”</p><p>The ex-bartender was stunned into silence. It was so quiet that Shizuo could hear his breathing. The twilight had blocked his view, and the lack of attention to where he was caused the tall man to drop the unlit cigarette unto the floor.</p><p>It wasn’t a gang, even a puny one. It wasn’t that Shizuo had wandered aimlessly around Ikebukuro Out of all places, Shizuo found himself in gods-forsaken Shinjuku. And who else would be lying on the ground with an almost empty, serene look on his face as he was bleeding out, was Orihara Izaya.</p><p>Shizuo continued to stare in stunned silence as Izaya appeared to not notice him. No, he did. Shizuo had seen Izaya’s hands twitch at the moment of Shizuo’s shocked breath, and now his greatest enemy was looking at him in almost pity.</p><p>“Hello, Shizu-chan.” The blood continued to sluggishly pool on the ground. Specks of blood were even on the white fur of his coat. The informant looked even more paler than usual. “Shinjuku…isn’t your usual spot.”</p><p>“Shut up, flea.” Shizuo spat out of reflex, feeling the same anger burning as his mortal enemy lay dying. He should be happy this day. His lifelong ambition was finally. Why did Shizuo not feel anything.</p><p>“This is my city,” the blond continued. He expected a witty retort from Izaya, as he always did, or a slightly teasing tone like how he always interacted when they were alone, but Izaya only huffed in what sounded like amusement.</p><p>“I didn’t realize Shinjuku was part of your territory.”</p><p>“So, who was the lucky bastard?” Shizuo asked finally. Izaya blinked owlishly at him, his eyes having a heavy look to them now. Why did he have such a sense of unease?</p><p>“One of my beloved clients,” Izaya replied. A hint of reproach appeared in his tone, although Shizuo was surprised of the emotion that shook across his face. There was a sense of sadness that Shizuo had never seen Izaya wear, and also weariness.</p><p>As if the indestructible Izaya was tired of this world and of the humans he claimed to love so much.</p><p>“But of course, Shiki-san can’t be too careful. He called me a child that had too much power.”</p><p>Shizuo stared at Izaya with a flabbergasted expression. He had thought the man he hated with every fiber of his being would flaunt his displeasure, or rattle on and on about the injustice of such a statement.</p><p>But Izaya remained silent.  </p><p>Shizuo could only pay attention to the blood trickling on the ground. A vague burn of anger coursed through his veins at all the things Izaya had done to make his life, and other’s lives more miserable. “Yeah, of course that would happen. Because you’re a sneaky little shit. No wonder no one trusts you.”</p><p>“The world would be better off…”</p><p>The tall blond man was stunned into silence at the liquid leaking from Izaya’s eyes. They couldn’t be…could they? Izaya was too cruel, to inhuman to cry. It seemed that even Shizuo didn’t exist, as Izaya’s red eyes, as dark as the burgundy sunset, seemed to be dead.</p><p>“Just leave me here, Shizuo…”</p><p>The sound of his full name coming from his loathed enemy who used every breath he took to annoy him, trying to kill him, and making him rage across the city was calling him by the name he had wanted to be called since they had met.</p><p>The jolt of warmth cascaded down into Shizuo’s chest, and his legs felt heavy, as if they were unable to move. That was bullshit, as Shizuo knew. But his anger at the informant paled at the sadness and helplessness in Izaya’s eyes.</p><p>“Kill me. I want you to kill me…Shizu-chan.” Blood now dripped down Izaya’s mouth as the black-haired man paused out the other’s name like it was soothing tea. “This is your lifetime dream, isn’t it?"</p><p>"To finally kill Orihara Izaya? The stupid blood fucking flea?”</p><p>His voice sounded more mocking the longer he spoke, something that caused a shudder through the tall man's spine. The disgust at his own self didn't even make Shizuo feel better. The glee at finding his enemy wounded and possibly dying didn't excite him, or cause the happiness he thought he would have. Shizuo didn't understand. </p><p>Izaya's smile was bright with blood, teeth blurred in its dark red, almost as dark as his hair, body laxing as the younger stared at the man who knew him more than anyone else.</p><p>A lone tear fell from his eye and onto his hand, uncoated by the life liquid seeping out of him.</p><p>He was whispering word that Shizuo knew of course, wanted to hear them for so long, but not from him. Not like this, in a day marred by death and Izaya out of all people.</p><p>Izaya’s look of inescapable sadness remained with his greatest enemy long after he had woke up from that…very strange dream of his. He had been hoping that by turning 25, Orihara Izaya would cease being the major balanced in his mind. Shizuo had determined to not care about what the flea said or did this year, but his mind was already coming up with bizarre dreams of the dreamy informant.</p><p>What…? Did he just call Izaya dreamy?! God, maybe he had too much to drink last night. It hadn’t been the first time that his thoughts always managed to wander to the flea when intoxicated.</p><p>Shizuo blearily reached for his phone and saw dozens of unread messages.</p><p>Somehow, the image of the messages piling up in his inbox made Shizuo emptier than ever.</p>
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